


Binding Threads

by MaritheFangirl



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Gen, Light Angst, Memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28166583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaritheFangirl/pseuds/MaritheFangirl
Summary: A point of interest, a bit of a distraction, that all those people were, he reminded himself.A dangling thread that he was afraid to tug on too hard.The clover felt heavy in his pocket. If it brought more visions like that, he ought to throw it away.Lucien felt the biting cold dig through his clothes and into flesh.He’d keep it, for now.He could use the good luck.
Relationships: Cree & Lucien (Critical Role), Lucien & Mollymauk Tealeaf, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Binding Threads

The crackling flames were the only source of light and heat in the biting north.

Lucien’s tail flicked beside him, as he was huddled in his cloak, pulling the furs tighter around him. The flames danced, reflecting in his eyes.

His companions were drifting off around the campfire, the Tomb Takers in various stages of rest.

A particularly cold wind blew in, and he shivered involuntarily, his tail hitting the snow hard, before curling up around him, clinging to his body heat as it was starting to go numb.

Closing his eyes, he could feel the prickling awareness of the others connected to him, and took a sharp breath of the icy cold air, feeling his lungs freeze. His mind disentangled from theirs.

Only a short while earlier he had felt the presence of the blue tiefling woman’s eyes on them again—Jester, Cree had supplied.

Meeting those people today, faces from a past he can’t remember, still tugged at his mind. Their faces unfamiliar, but the way they looked at him—he sat restlessly now. The pain in their voices and expressions was so evident, he had kept up a façade at the time, but it had shaken him.

Strangers, he reminded himself. Whoever those people had known, who they _thought_ they had known, wasn’t him. It was a broken fragment they had fallen for, nothing more.

He shifted, turning away from the fire, and missing the heat immediately. Dipping a hand into the pocket of his winter coat, his fingers brushed against the carefully preserved four leaf clover he had been given. He pulled it out, carefully cupping one hand around the other to protect it from the harsh elements.

The woman who gave it to him, Yasha, had told him she had been there for many of the tattoos that now adorned his body. It was strange to wake up and find his body marred in new ways, from the tattoos and the costume jewelry.

He swallowed, twirling the plant in his fingers.

As he stared at the clover, his mind drifted to the thought of her face, as she had handed it to him.

The image of her shifted, and they were no longer in a forgotten icy ruin, but a bright summer’s day. She had flowers braided into her much darker hair, and a smile tugging at the corners on her lips. Her lips were moving, but he heard no sound. Meeting her mirthful eyes, he heard a word that rang in his head, clattering inside his brain.

“ _Molly._ ”

Blinking, the vision faded.

He nearly crushed the clover out of reflex as his grip tightened, but he slowly put it back in his pocket, looking out into the howling wind. Letting out a small hiss through clenched teeth, he mouthed a few choice words.

After a beat, he turned back towards the campfire, warming his hands against the flames, rubbing them together. Most of his companions had drifted off, but Cree was still sitting awake, her fur dotted and wet with snow.

He schooled his features carefully, lounging casually on his side.

“Cree, dear, those…” he gestured vaguely with a hand, “people that we met today. Curious lot, aren’t they?”

“Always a little too curious,” she responded, picking at one of her claws.

A flare up on his neck, the connection between him and Cree growing stronger, like a thread that bound them.

He nodded his head towards where he had sensed Jester scrying on them beside the Tabaxi, “Glad that they are following us, might make things a little more interesting.”

He grinned lazily, and Cree made a grunt of agreement, but he could tell from her manner she didn’t entirely approve.

Staring into the campfire, he tried to push the thought of whatever vision that was out of his mind. It was baggage he didn’t need, didn’t care for. Whatever that thing was running around in his body, it was gone, dead.

Brow raised, he scanned Cree up and down, “What’s on your mind?”

The question was both just that, and an order. The thread between them tightened, as if prying into her mind.

“Do not underestimate them,” she said, a snowflake landing on one of her whiskers.

“I have no intention to,” he placed a hand on his chest, mock-offended, “They seem more than capable, if a bit…”

He wiggled his fingers in the air, searching for the right word, “Hm, lost.”

Leaning back, he kicked his feet up, getting settled against the ground, crossing his legs. Sleep began to tug at his eyelids.

A point of interest, a bit of a distraction, that all those people were, he reminded himself.

A dangling thread that he was afraid to tug on too hard.

The clover felt heavy in his pocket. If it brought more visions like that, he ought to throw it away.

Lucien felt the biting cold dig through his clothes and into flesh.

He’d keep it, for now. He could use the good luck.

**Author's Note:**

> this can stand alone, but I also might want to continue it? I have some ideas but nothing concrete


End file.
